Wildfire by Carrie Mac

Author:Carrie Mac
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

The best kind of day on the trail is when we both wake up in a good mood and have something to talk about. This morning it was all about what the hell I was going to do with my life, and for some reason, I was okay with it. Maybe it was because of the blue skies above, because the winds were pushing the smoke out of the way for once. Or that I’d saved the best oatmeal flavor combo for today—two plains plus one maple cinnamon plus one apple pie. If you close your eyes and imagine you’re sitting at Thanksgiving supper with the football game on too loud in the background and Gigi lecturing Everett on how a meatless holiday is not a holiday at all, you can just, just about taste apple pie.

“That is such bullshit,” Pete says as I try to convince him of this yet again. He’s walking ahead of me. He may or may not know that I’m keeping an eye on his bad leg. “You need a crunch to give you the right texture. Not mush.”

“That time I brought candied pecans and sprinkled them on top.”

“Now, that was crazy-accurate fake pie.”

“If we keep up this pace, we’ll go farther than we have for days.”

I watch his leg.

If I hadn’t bandaged it and seen the mess myself, I would have no idea that he got hurt back there at Uglier Mug. But I know Pete. He plows past things that would stop other people in their tracks.

“Aren’t you getting tired, Pete?”

“If you’re talking about stopping for lunch, then yes.”

“Mmm. Shriveled-up soy protein mock-chicken butter chicken.”

“And rice,” Pete says. “That’s the best, Annie. Love that shit. Could eat two.”

“We could swap for the lasagna? I get two of those, you get two of the fake buck-buck.”

Pete stops in the middle of the field of boulders we’ve been making our way over for more than an hour. “Look!” He’s pointing up. “Peregrine.”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

“Wings are angled differently,” I say. “That’s a hawk.”

“Or a frigging pigeon, if you’re denying that it’s a peregrine.”

“Not a peregrine.”

We keep weaving between the bigger boulders.

“That is a hawk.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Isn’t, Annie.”

“That is a goshawk.” The bird is almost right above us now, so I have to shield my eyes from the smoky red sun. “Look at the wings.”

“That is a peregrine.”

“Pete!” I chuck off my pack and root in the side pocket for the little pair of mostly useless binoculars. Sometimes I think I was born without the gene for using binoculars. Pete says they’re fine, but I can’t usually see anything in them other than a green mash of forest or all sky. But now I take my time and find the bird in the sky and get it into the best focus I can. “Flap, flap, glide. That is an accipiter.”

“Pulling out the big words.”

“Goshawk.” The bird swoops toward a tree at the far side of the clearing and lands on a branch, giving me a perfect view.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.